


Action Figure

by TinderWulf



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Four Inch Tall Turian, Pocket-size Turian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:39:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinderWulf/pseuds/TinderWulf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for the Kink-Meme: "Pocket-sized Turian: Whichever Turian for whichever reason gets re-sized to 4 inches in height, for a short period of time. Looking for something funny and cute, maybe even sexy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Action Figure

**Author's Note:**

> A wonderful Art!Anon over on the Meme was kind enough to do a drawing to go with a certain part in this. I can't thank art!anon enough, the drawing is ADORABLE! 
> 
>  
> 
> [Drawing of Tiny Sparatus](http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a69/Velasa/Bribes%20for%20the%20Kmeme/tinySparatus_zps23ab13f9.jpg)

Desperately trying to control the laughter threatening to burst from her, she addressed the normal size councilors.

“What happened exactly.” _You will not laugh. Just... don't look down. There is no pouting turian, only four inches tall, sitting on the name plaque. Nope._

“We aren't exactly sure, Commander. His assistant said there was a loud noise. His guards came in only to find....” Councilor Tevos pointed to the huffing turian on the desk clearly trying to hold back her amusement as well. 

“Yeah, I thought it was an action figure. I picked it up and it bit me! Look.”

Shepard swallowed down another wave of giggles when the guard held out his glove to show tiny teeth marks in the material. _Control it!_

Taking a deep breath, “I'm just going to...” Putting her fist over her mouth she cleared her throat and tried again, “I need to..” When another wave of laughter bubbled up she knew she wouldn't be able to hold it. “Excuse me.” 

She hauled ass out of the door before she collapsed against the nearest wall. Silent laughter shook her entire body. The assistant was kind enough to ignore Shepard as the spectre snorted in lung fulls of air between the laughter and tears. 

Finally, after long minutes of laughter that caused muscle pain in her core, she stood and straightened her hair before wiping any remaining tears away. Shepard refused to meet the assistants eyes in fear of losing it again. 

Reentering Councilor Sparatus' chambers, Shepard addressed the curious leadership around her.

“I think it best that I take Councilor Sparatus back to my ship while my team goes over the office.” Shepard nearly lost control again when Sparatus began yelling 'Spirits no!'. She once again swallowed down the urge to laugh. 

“Where do you plan to hide him, Commander? The public cannot see him like this.”

“Well...I guess he can squeeze inside my helmet.” She coughed to cover her laughter. “It'll be the only place to hide him and make sure he can still breathe. 

The others mumbled and turned away as to not show their humor about the situation.

Shepard made the calls then held out her hand to Sparatus. He adjusted his tissue that was wrapped around his body before stepping up on her hand. She brought him up close to her eyes before she spoke.

“No farting, Councilor.” He gave her a look that could make turian battled hardened soldiers piss themselves. Good thing she was immune. “You have to say it before I let you inside my helmet. If you fart, I will sing. Loud.”

“Fine. I won't fart.”

Shepard opened her mask to allow him access. “You're kind of cute this small.”

“Shut up, Shepard.”

The others coughed and cleared their throats as Sparatus settled in next to her ear.

* * *

“Can I help you again, Spectre? Another Dinosaur playset perhaps?” The asari shopkeeper asked kindly.

-[A dinosaur playset? What are you, ten?]-

Shepard ignore Sparatus' remark. “Actually, I was wondering if you had any turian action figures with interchangeable clothing?”

-[I hate you, Shepard.]-

“Why yes! We have a whole playset, complete with an electric tank.”

Shepard perked up at tank. “Really?” More serious. “The clothing is decent material?”

“Yes, Ma'am. Just like that shark animal you bought last time. It is made from krogan approved materials. All high quality.”

“I'll take it!”

-[Spirits take me now.]-

“Fantastic!” The shopkeeper glowed. “Male or female turian? Oh! It seems we even have a mated pair in stock.”

Shepard tapped the chin of her helmet, pretending to be deep in thought. Sparatus growled making her chuckle lightly. “Male please.” 

She felt a sharp stab on her ear lobe that instinctively made her shoulder jump up to rub against it. Her armored head and shoulder snapped against each other while her head pressed Sparatus against the inside of the helmet. The shopkeeper gave her a slightly concerned look before scurrying off to get the playset.

Sparatus groaned, -[I regret that.]-

“What did you think would happen, Tiny Tim?”

-[Shut up, Shepard.]-

~*~*~*~

* * *

~*~*~*~

After returning to the ship and setting up Sparatus', hopefully temporary, playset/new bedroom, they waited in the medbay as both doctors scanned the turian.

“Unsure. Need blood sample.”

“Uh, Mordin. He's four inches tall. How big of a blood sample are we talking here?”

“Not much.”

Once Mordin had his blood, Shepard carried a complaining Sparatus to the mess hall to find him some paste to eat. She sat him down on the island then turned to reach up to grab the box with Garrus' rations. When she turned around, Grunt was licking a screaming Sparatus.

“Oh my gosh! Grunt, set him down NOW!” Grunt froze and stared at her. She knew that look. That was look he gave her every time he did the opposite. “If you put him in your mouth, I will confiscate your weapons for a week!”

“But Battlemaster!”

“No buts! Set him down gently.”

Grunt did as he was told but not without the biggest sad face Shepard had ever seen. Her heart clenched in pain. _Tough love, Shepard. Damn it._

Shepard quickly picked Sparatus up as soon as he was on the counter top. Grunt trudged away grumbling. 

“Are you okay? Does anything hurt? Are you having an allergic reaction?”

“No. Nothing about this whole situation is okay! I'm fine, just tell your spirits forsaken doctors to fix it!”

Shepard dropped him in her cleavage, making sure her low cut shirt wasn't suffocating him. “No need to get so snippy. I think it best to keep you close so Grunt doesn't mistake you for his toys again.”

“So you put me in between your milk bags?” Sparatus practically yelled, clearly in mental distress.

“Look. There is no milk in them okay? I never lose what I store in my cleavage. A lighter, a small blade...sometimes popcorn.”

“Just....shut up, Shepard.”

* * *

“No, I will not let you tape me to the tank so you can drive me around.”

Shepard huffed, disappointed. “You're no fun, Sparatus.”

The turian moved around on his plastic bed before growling. “Shepard. I can't sleep here, it's uncomfortable.”

“Complain much?”

“Let me sleep on one of your pillows. Please. I...just want to sleep through this nightmare.”

“Do you know how many men would give their limbs to have a chance to put their hand in my cleavage? To sleep in my cabin? To see me naked?”

“Fine. I'm enjoying all three immensely.” Sparatus states sarcastically.

With a glare Shepard arranged her pillows so she wouldn't accidentally squish the annoying councilor. Once he was comfortable, she turned of the lights. She was out within minutes.

* * *

[Commander, I'm sorry to disturb you.]

“No, EDI. Whatever it is, no. I'm sleeping.”

There was a pause before the AI continued. [Grunt is masturbating in the mess hall again.]

She sat up quickly, “What the shit!? Why.....fuck's sake why?” She rubbed her eyes, “Put me through to him and please do not give me feedback while he is wanking it. I really don't want to hear his sex sounds.”

[Line open.]

“URDNOT GRUNT VAS NORMANDY, STOP MASTURBAING IN THE MESS HALL!”

[But, Battlemaster!]

“No more buts, boy. I will be down to collect your shotgun in the morning. Don't even think of hiding it. Masturbating is for the privacy of your quarters, do you understand?”

“Yes, Battlemaster.”

With a sigh, Shepard collapsed back onto her pillow. “Why me? Why can't I have a normal life with normal enemies?” She continued listing off the things she wanted to be normal in her life.

“Complain much, Shepard?”

“Shut up, Sparatus.”

~*~*~*~

* * *

~*~*~*~

“Found cause, Shepard. Food contaminated. Vakarian hunted down cook, cook confessed. Drug will wear off within the next day or so. Origin of drug unknown. Possibly Prothean. Will study further.”

“Thanks, Mordin.” Shepard patted Sparatus' head with her index finger as they left the lab. “Hear that, pint-size? You will be back to normal soon.”

“I've had three days of this already. I know more about you than I care to. How long have you had that tattoo by the way? It wasn't stated in your file.”

Shepard's jaw dropped, “How the hell did you see that?”

Sparatus leaned back against her cleavage, his arms folded over each other. “ While you were sleeping your panties moved enough for me to see a little of it on your hip.”

“Why you tiny little pervert.” Shepard whispered down to her cleavage, shocked.

Unamused, “Please, Shepard. You were the one that went to bed in your underwear.”

“Yeah well....I usually sleep naked.”

Smugly, “Then I would know what the whole thing looks like.”

Blushing furiously, “Shut up, Sparatus.”

* * *

Shepard looked up when the door swished open to her cabin. “Mordin.”, she whispered as she pointed to her chest.

“Ah, sleeping. Good. Will help drug wear off faster.”

Sparatus had snuggled down in between her breasts when Shepard reclined on her bed to read reports. The warmth had lulled him to sleep and if you were quiet enough, you could hear a soft purr like snore.

“Just wanted to do a scan, make sure everything is normal.” Mordin ran his omnitool over Sparatus before nodding his approval and taking his leave.

* * *

She needed to pee. Her bladder was already angry with her for holding it so long, but she didn't want to wake Sparatus and taking him with her when she relieved herself was just out of the question. In the field it was one thing. Here on the ship with toilets, was another. 

She carefully removed the wee turian and gently laid him on his pillow, making sure he was covered before she rushed to the bathroom. 

After some food and a shower, she checked on Councilor Sparatus only to find him still asleep. Since Mordin wasn't worried, she wouldn't be either. She crawled in between her blankets and quickly drifted off.

* * *

_Oh, oh yes. I like this dream so far. He knows just where to touch me too._

_The tongue on her neck and the hand inside her sports bra were enough to draw a needy whimper from her. Her partner hummed in response, his hot body pressed up against her._

_“Wake up, Shepard...”_

_Wait....what?_

Oh shit. “Sparatus?”

“I actually did enjoy watching you change your clothes. I wanted nothing more than to bury myself inside your willing body.” He nipped her shoulder. “I couldn't though, not with with my being....pint-sized.” Sparatus pinched her nipple, pulling a moan from her as his other hand brushed over her lower stomach. “Now that I am back to normal and everything seems to be in working order, I plan to thank you for your...kindness.”

It had been so long for her. She came within moments of his hand touching and teasing her clit.

“Is it always that easy to get a human female to orgasm?”

“No, now fuck me.”

He growled with arousal from the vulgarity of her words as he pulled her panties off and rolled on top of her. She spread her legs wide to accommodate his hips, then he was inside of her. He thrust slowly, trying to savor her warmth. 

The heat in his abdomen was quickly building making the encounter far more desperate than he was used to. 

His thrusts quickly became erratic as he held himself over Shepard. He pulled out right before the first wave of release hit him, spilling himself on Shepard's highly supportive waist. 

Sparatus watched sleepily as she used a dirty shirt to wipe up his seed. He should have helped, he knew, but he couldn't take his eyes off of her glistening body. And the tattoo.

“What kind of winged creature is that?” He pulled her close when she tossed the soiled shirt aside.

“A butterfly.”

He blinked as he looked down at it again, “Why a butterfly?”

“Because they're pretty.”

Humming, he nuzzled her cheek before whispering into her ear, “I'm really glad I didn't fart.”

Laughter filled the loft.


End file.
